Jisobel
by SnowBitch
Summary: The depiction of Isobel Flemming and John Gilbert's turbulent relationship. AU All Isobel POV's are written by Paola-Bearrr.
1. Prologue

**John POV**

One last glance over my shoulder was all that I was left with, one fleeting glimpse of the daughter I barely knew but loved nonetheless Her revival cemented my passing and with that carried a feeling of euphoria; I had secured the survival of my daughter, the one whom was never far from my heart or thoughts. Loitering in front of the dilapidated house that was close to ruin, I breathed a soothing sigh and prepared myself for the end. Granting memories to scorch my mind for all eternity; images of my dearly departed and remaining loved ones, Grayson and Miranda, the guardians I trusted Elena in. Jenna, the sister-in-law I once was fond of, Jeremy my maturing nephew and finally Isobel; the woman I desperately fell for and inadvertently brought about her demise.

This is not a story many have heard before. Yes, a boy meets a girl but there is no happy ending for them. This ending has darkness, a veil doused in the supernatural.

**Isobel POV**

One, firm tug was all it took for the delicate silver chain that hung from my neck to snap, and by Klaus' command, the lapis lazuli pendant I gripped slipped through helpless fingers. Bound by the sun and without the protection of magic, its brilliant rays were relentless as they scorched every cell on my body, the rancid odor of burning flesh going unnoticed as I shut pallid lids. Behind closed eyes ran images of the love I lost to an obsession that, in the end, brought me to my death, the friend I found in an unforgiving ancestor, and the daughter that stood before me, who, through all my deceit and the heartless façade, I cared for with all my heart.

For the sake of Elena, I fought to stay silent, but the excruciating pain won, and an anguished scream escaped through tormented lips, nothing but an agonized cry left behind over the fact that she'll never know the truth about how it was always her I wanted to protect, how she'll never know me. And then, there was nothing.

They say that in death, you wander towards the light. A bright, white light that promises comfort and peace in passing. It may be true. But for someone damned, whose life has been filled with mistakes, atrocious decisions, and the devil's bidding, there was nothing but a torturous void, waiting with open arms for you to fall. Fall into damnation. That's exactly what I got, and exactly what I deserve.


	2. Chapter 2 John's POV

Thurston Moore. That's the voice that echoed against the walls of my adolescent bedroom, deafeningly loud causing the papered posters that adorned the barriers to wrinkle. They masked the pale blue paint that had endured since birth.

_"Everywhere it's six-sex-six by luck, A satellite wish will make it just enough. You'll be making out with a witch in a coffee truck"_

I stood hunched over the vanity mirror that perched on the edge of my dad's old desk; carvings along the wood were old and new. Mainly words that I'd etched in to the oak, lyrics and poems with dark intent. I can admit now that I was an odd kid at heart, creating the illusion of a well-mannered teen in a small town. Perceptions were everything once the neighbors laid eyes on my brother and I we were to allow the mask to reclaim our faces and morph into thick armor. We had to act a certain way but I could escape the pressure when I was alone which is exactly what I did. Wearing the clothes that I wanted and listening to the music I enjoyed. With my stereo cranked up I couldn't hear anything but the continuously play of Sonic Youth; Grayson had to bursts into my room and turn the sound down to yell at me.

"Are you deaf, little brother?"

The question that left his mouth joined his expectant expression as he stared at me with a bewildered visage when he focused on the dark charcoal I held in my hand poised next to my eyelids.

"Don't assume make up, think of it more as a medium for art and my face is a canvas. What do you want?"

My sullen tone screeched the question as an accusation. I didn't bother tearing my gaze from the mirror, I could see Grayson in the reflection and his exhausted presence had not altered.

"Do you plan on leaving the house today or are you going hole yourself up in here like a depressed kid? I don't want to worry about coming back to blood stained walls and dead animal carcasses piling up."

His gaze hardened, unrelenting as he anticipated an amused reaction but instead he got an uninterested one.

"What do you care?"

I spoke without expression; stating a question that required no answers and didn't receive one. Grayson expelled a harsh frustrated groan before storming out of the room with his hands thrown up in a conceded fashion.

The slam of the thick door echoed through the room and I reached across the desk to return the volume dial to its original place and proceeded to claim the charcoal that marked the pads of my fingers with a dark smudge. I did have plans for the day not that I would share them with my golden boy of a brother. What we did in our free time was nobodies business and I couldn't stomach another lecture about responsibility and perceptions. I didn't comment on Grayson's extra curricular activities; the flurry of women that paraded through his bedroom. As if I was stupid enough to believe the 'Study partner' story, who did he mistake me for? Someone who gave a crap?

I snorted vehemently and hurled the charcoal across the desk hard enough for it to splinter and dust. I had to escape while I still could


	3. Chapter 3 Isobel's POV

Mystic Falls. Maybe the place would live up to its name? A quiet, humorless laugh escaped me as I discreetly shook my head at my ridiculous musings, a wry smile twisting tinted lips. With a heavy sigh, I directed a darkened whiskey gaze to the quaint town that idly passed by in an unfocused blur as we drove through, nothing but the cozy looking bar and grill, and the clock tower that held a sort of grandeur to it catching my eye. It's not that we moved constantly, but moving in the middle of high school wasn't something any teenager wanted. Starting at a new, bigger school was hard enough when you're starting from the very beginning. First impressions were suddenly everything; the way you dressed, the way you presented yourself, what you were good at, what you were bad at, your likes, your dislikes. Every single excruciating detail isn't just brushed off once you're thrown into the dog-eat-dog world of stereotypes. The first week or two was always an insufferable Spanish Inquisition as everyone decided what clique you belonged in. Were you a jock? A cheerleader? A nerd, a skater, a musician? It was ridiculous, but that's the way things were. Difference is, I have to go through it again when every 'position' is already established.

"Give it a chance, chérie. You might enjoy it here."

The familiar sound of my mom's voice snapped me out of my vacant reverie, and I directed a careless glance towards her through the rear view mirror, giving her nothing but a dismissive shrug and a meaningless "mhm". Before continuing to speak, a small sigh of her own escaped her, slender fingers drumming rhythmically against the steering wheel, the silence shared between us making the sound of the steady tapping seem louder than it was. Clearing her throat, her gaze danced between the road and the rear view mirror as she addressed me, her attempt at optimism to encourage me evident as the words she bestowed upon me were laced with enthusiastic tones.

"This town has a lot of history. You'll like that, right? I heard something about an important historical battle taking taking place near here, uhh.."

I knew she meant well, trying to engage me in conversation and trying to increase my regard concerning our move, and yet all I could manage was one, disinterested sentence.

"The Battle of Willow Creek.."

She parked our car in front of a house that had an air of lavishness to it despite the cozy exterior, and on the porch was my dad, his signature grin etched onto his features. His greeting fell on deaf ears as I gazed upon the street I was now to reside in. White picket fences, swings on porches - a perfectly painted picture of undisturbed bliss. As I tucked an errant jet black lock behind my ear, the idea that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad flitted through my crowded thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4 John's POV

"What the hell John!"

My elder brother ranted at me, his voice was distinctive. It maintained the same disregard and shame that our fathers did whenever he spoke of me and to me. I was the son he /_didn't_/ respect. The son /_he_/ regretted. Well it wasn't all peachy being /_his_/ son either. How could I possibly live up to the example set by Grayson?

Grayson was perfect, the first born. He dated the sweetest girl in town, a girl anyone would be proud to bring to family dinners. He made the honor roll in school every year as well as demonstrating his eagerness to be respectable. Again, Grayson was the perfect son whereas I was hardly worthy of the Gilbert name. What a farce! Dad was a tyrant in all honesty, striving for perfection in his children while still demoralizing them for not doing more. I wasn't going to stick around forever like Grayson had planned. His future was set in stone. He graduated from High School as Valedictorian, attended a prestigious university and returned ready to begin his residency. All that was left was procuring a medical degree and a wife. That would really made papa Gilbert proud. He couldn't help but tell everyone the good news while shining a disappointed torch on me for not excelling at the same speed as Grayson.

"JOHN! WAKE UP!"

My brothers loud bellowing woke me from my collapsed state in the living room. I hadn't made it to the bedroom. Scratching at my forehead while my eyes struggled to stay open and focus, I cursed at Grayson for his annoying voice.

"Bro, get out of my face. I'm sleeping."

I grumbled through the pain surging through my head. Why couldn't he just shut up and leave me be. I wasn't causing any harm by sleeping on the floor. Hell it was 5am. I remembered because I rolled in around 3 and it wasn't daylight yet.

"Why do you have to be such a loser? Pull yourself together. You have school in an hour. I'm not being late for work waiting for your ass to sober up."

_One hour?_ Impossible, the sun wasn't up. What was Grayson talking about? "It's not even morning. Go away."

I spurted the grumbled words lowering my face into the pillow when it was unkindly yanked out from under me. Only then did the sunlight catch my face, burning my eyes with its brightness. "Get in the shower before Dad sees you."

I expelled a vicious burp that retained the stench of state beer and cigarettes into Grayson's face. The vile smell lingered for a while. I could hurl on the priceless rug I passed out on. I deliberated for a few seconds. _It certainly would piss off my dad._

Rebelling against all authority had its perks but truthfully I wanted acceptance. I know it's pathetic but it's the truth. I bellowed at the top of my lungs once in the confines of the shower, the hot water created a mist of steam to fill the room and as I scrubbed the dingy dirt from my body and cleansed the product from my hair I felt new, revitalized and pure. I was ready for the day ahead. The only thing a shower couldn't rid was the monstrous hangover that would stay all morning. I hand-fisted a few aspirin and washed them down with a pint of juice. I needed to power through the first day of school which meant getting back into the swing of things. Slipping the mask on as it were; reaching into the far end of my closet for clothes I had purposely avoided during the entire summer. I looked like a bible salesman in the khakis and a church going shirt. Sunday bests, I was now in disguise; hiding in plain sight from the neighbors that would gossip over afternoon tea in town. I had to rebel with attire too otherwise I feared I would blend with the mask and unwittingly begin to act like my brother. Donning a black Sonic Youth concert Tee under my costume was enough to keep the reprobate in me subdued.

"John! I'm leaving. Better hurry up." I grabbed my backpack from the edge of my desk and meandered through the hall and the kitchen out to the driveway to hop into the back of Grayson's car, prepared for the day ahead.


	5. Chapter 5 Isobel's POV

"~The move was quicker than I thought it'd be, which honestly was a relief. When we first arrived, the whole place was barren, and the emptiness was almost haunting. The day was full of unpacking, and minor, unnecessary theatrics from mom, which I guess is what I was expecting. Thankfully, dad saved me and sent me up with the box of my things. You have no idea how much of a relief it was when I found that decorating my room, to make it welcoming, homey, and _mine_, turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. Before the day was over, my pictures, paintings, trinkets and books were placed, and my room finally felt like just that. _My_ room. It's amazing how small details make all the difference..~"

For thirty minutes, I'd been sat leisurely on my bed, one of many pillows propped up vertically behind me to serve as a backrest while I did what I do every, or rather most, mornings. Writing in my diary was an escape, a comfort that cleared my mind and gave it the break it constantly longed for. As with every time I filled in the navy, leather-bound notebook, these few minutes had calmed me, and for a moment any concern I had about the day ahead of me was gone, a typical teenager's anxiety washed away as black ink took to paper, my most private thoughts, feelings, worries all taking form in a languid, cursive script, my dreams, aspirations, and even doubts cascading effortlessly into my diary. Unfortunately, the peace I'd so eagerly reveled in was interrupted, a familiar voice tugging me out of my own thoughts.

"Isobel, you'll be late if we don't leave now."

I could hear mom's hurried footsteps as she wandered around the living room, the hallway, the kitchen, finding things she needed for work, looking for anything she may have forgotten to put in her bag. With a deep breath, I let the tips of my fingers lazily flick at the cover, the diary shutting with a muted thud.

"You should go, sweetheart."

Looking up towards the source of the tenor I could recognize from a mile away, an affectionate smile graced rose-tinted lips as my dad poked his head around my bedroom door, the words that followed laced with playful tones and executed in a pretentious whisper.

"You know how messing with her punctuality thing's like feeding a gremlin after midnight."

As he moves further into my room to lean against my door frame arms folded across his chest as he flashed me a grin, a delicate laugh escaped me, and I swung my legs off the bed to stand on my feet, both arms up as delicate fingers skillfully fiddled sleek locks into a simple ponytail.

With my head canted to one side, I let an assessing gaze roam my reflection, blunted teeth grazing against plush bottom lip as I conducted a swift evaluation of my outfit. How I dressed was never something I was particularly concerned about, but only two words swam through my mind, the same two words that clouded anyone's thoughts when starting fresh: First impressions.

"You look fine, Iz. Come on."

Holding a hand out to me, his head nodding in a wordless beckon, I took the rucksack that hung precariously off the end of my bed, draping its strap over one shoulder as I placed my hand in my dad's. With his gaze momentarily resting on the frame behind me, he raised entwined fingers above my head, twirling me towards the door. "Time to pirouette to school."

"Where are my keys? ..Isobel!"

Glancing in the direction of the stairs at my mom's second call, I turn to plant a chaste kiss on my dad's cheek, not another word spoken by myself as I display a dainty wave goodbye.

"Don't be nervous. Just like the poem, right?"

It was amazing how he could read me like an open book. He always said that, as with himself, it was my eyes that gave me way, but his reference to the poem meant that I couldn't help but let a sincere smile etch itself onto my features. 'I was pirouette and flourish. I was filigree and flame.' – Those were the lines from Rita Dove's On the Bus with Rosa Parks that, encased in a glass frame, hung on my wall. The comparisons, illustrative of beauty, strength, and the idea of an independent, modern woman spoke volumes to me, and with the day I was anticipating, all three were characteristics I needed to embody to make it to the end.


	6. Chapter 6 John's POV

"You know the drill, John. No scrapes, no trouble, no detention."

I lounged leisurely in the backseat of Grayson's car as he spoke, reminding me of what my father expects from his sons: one a pride of joy and the other regret. Grays girlfriend had claimed the passenger seat and her incessant chewing of gum had driven me to brink of insanity. _How on earth could he not find that annoying? _Was my brother oblivious to the noise that disgusting mouth was creating?

I snorted involuntarily which provoked Grayson; he stretched his arm across and swatted me in the chest._ Mother fucker! _

Of course I hadn't said anything but my brother and I were in tune. He knew what I was snorting at without words being shared. I guess that's the one thing that remained during times our dad rode us into the ground with his berating. The beat up Camaro rolled along the ground catching against the freshly graveled road. Mystic Falls, you had to give it to town council. They took care of our town; every school year they repainted the signs, graveled the roads and created the illusion that we were a town that cared. _Yeah right, we just wanted to be perceived as a town that cares. _

If everyone knew about all of the weird shit that happens people would avoid this place like the plague. Animal attacks were growing more frequent along with disappearing teens; I'd have left years ago if it wasn't for Grayson.

The car pulled to a stop and as I grasped at the strap of my backpack I opened the door simultaneously. I didn't need another lecture or pep talk from my brother nor did I want to look his shadow in the face and get a glimpse of that nasty piece of gum she refused to spit out. I almost gagged on the image as it made its way into my brain, bringing forth a shudder I couldn't shake. As I wandered toward the den of decay –a corner in the parking lot where teachers never ventured—with a pack of Marlboro lights in my palm, Mr Ashcroft, my inept guidance counselor called out my name.

I say inept, he got his degree online, like that validates him to guide young minds. Anyone who gets their qualifications from a place called 'Sun valley Community Annex' is not qualified to council me. I'd rather sit through a full day of church listening to Pastor Young condemn us all to hell for our unnatural sins. That self-righteous heathen would join us in hell.

Over the summer I was avoiding home at all costs and Pastor Young's sister was visiting on her college visit tour of the country and things got pretty heated. A pool and a discarded bikini top were involved, but that's beside the point. I ran into the house to grab a soda and overheard the holier-than-thou man of god exchanging some less than PG words with the maid. Now, God must have been busy that afternoon because I'm sure he would have smote the philandering Pastor and his mistress of a maid. Adultery is a sin, preacher. I was saving that tidbit of information for dear old papa Gilbert. His religious ramblings would explode in his face the next time he decides to lecture me on bad morals and behavior.

_Oh hell! _I grumbled under my breath as I grabbed some table and climbed to perch atop of it. Mr Ashcroft had not given up. He'd walked into enemy territory and school had not officially started yet.

"Mr Gilbert."

I glanced up as I pushed the packet of cigarettes into my pocket once again. I didn't want to be hauled in front of the principal on the first day.

"Yes Mr Ashcroft. What can I do for you?"

His expression was visibly uneasy; I suppose he was hesitant to stay in this quadrant for too long, for fear the delinquents of MFHS would turn up. I succumbed to the pity and extended an olive branch.

"Sir, relax."

He breathed a calming exhale and hurried with his words.

"I just had a word with your father –such a nice man—and he informed me that you're interested in taking a more hands on approach to this school year. I've signed you up to tutor your peers. Please report to the library at the end of the day."

I couldn't contain my resolve and I felt the mask slip. _Way to screw me dad! _This was payback for staying out all night. Biting back a comment that would make Mr Ashcroft blush. I swallowed the world of hurt that threatened to tumble from parted lips and gave a performance that rivaled Todd McKinney's portrayal of Macbeth.

"I'm really pleased to hear that. Yes, I am looking forward to a more hands on approach this year. Thank you for telling me, Sir. I'll be at the library after school."

I permitted my smile to remain as I watched Mr Ashcroft walk away, my fingers dug into the metal edges of the table I sat atop. I needed more than a cigarette to keep my cool but before I could fish into my bag for my stash, the bell rang.


	7. Chapter 7 Both POV

**John's POV**

With a mighty leap I hopped off the tattered and worn picnic bench that was propped against a metal railing. I had to make it to class and thanks to the impromptu visit from Mr Ashcroft, my inept guidance counsellor turned unofficial busybody, I knew detention would be on the cards as punishment for a tardy. That would only infuriate Papa Gilbert. His obvious disdain wasn't hidden at home; much to my displeasure. I could hear him now.

_"Can't you do anything right, boy?"_

If I wanted an ass-whooping I'd spit back with a smart-aleck remark to really rile the old bastard up. Sure sons are supposed to respect their fathers; love them too, I guess you get what you give and that old fool doesn't give me anything but endless lectures. I wish I could be more like Grayson, as much as I complain about his 'good Christian boy' act and his 'holier-than-thou' visage he's the only one that's been there for me throughout it all. Yeah we rag on each other but that's what brothers do.

Tearing down the vacant hall with desperate worry encroaching on to boyish features, I increased my speed; feet barely hitting the freshly buffed floor with every wide spanned stride. As I turned the corner pointedly I came face to face with a god damn hall monitor. _Just my fucking luck!_

"Well well, should you be in class, Gilbert?"

What kind of question was that? The blatant stupidity this guy gave off only piqued my wrath. I couldn't mollify the words as they escaped involuntarily.

"Where the fuck do you think I'm going?"

Punitive breaths pushed against my tense jaw, I was seething, at this joker and myself for snapping so easily. I had to remember to suck it up and play the role of the good local teen. Member of the congregation, Alter boy for Pastor Young, High school athlete and all round angel. I took a deliberate step back and willed my breathing to slow to its normal rate.

"I'm sorry man, I didn't mean to be such a jerk to you but I can't be any later. Can you let this slide?"

The ruse was working and my fraudulent apology appeared to be swaying this particular hall monitor into not reporting me to the principal. He didn't answer with words his nod said it all and I skated past him.

**Isobel's POV**

In reality, Mystic Falls High wasn't exceptionally huge, and I had no doubt that it wouldn't take me long to find my way around it. But the atmosphere today which, I'm sure, would normally have just been an air of laziness and reluctance to attend classes, had a noticeable edge to it, and didn't help my currently non-existent sense of direction. A cocktail of intrigue and question laced the heavy ambience my entrance seemed to create, and weaving through the dense crowds undetected, and with minimal attention directed towards my conscious form as I'd intended, proved more and more impossible by the minute, clusters of students that littered the halls parting like the Red Sea in my presence.

"How can I help?"

Behind the desk in the Administrations Office resided a bored looking lady, her pleasant greeting tainted by the lifeless, monotonous tones her words were spoken in, sapphire irises dulled an undesirable blue as they held no emotion but disinterest. The sound of conceited jocks, the cheerleaders' pretentious laughter as they shamelessly fawned over them, and senseless murmurs of unenthusiastic emos were muted by the glass door of the office, an awkward glance shifting between the flickering fluorescent light, and the assistant who never looked up from what she was doing. Although the brief silence was heavenly, I couldn't help but idly compare the current situation to that of a horror movie, the only noises being the sporadic clicking of a stapler, echoes of vigorously pressed hole punchers, and the disorganised shuffling of paper within this box of a dimly lit room, the lady's strangely labored breathing unsettling. Lost in mindless reverie, the bell's relentless chime snapped me out of my musing, a minute jump jolting my frame, and swiftly, I took my timetable, muttering a 'thank you' to the woman who only grunted in response.


	8. Chapter 8 Isobel's POV

I could tell the morning would swim by unbearably slowly the second I stepped foot into my first class. It would be filled with awkward smiles, polite nods, uncharacteristic timidness, and each class will start in exactly the same manner as this. Judgemental gazes were thrown in my direction as first impressions were unashamedly made; indiscreet whispers exchanged among peers about me, the new girl, the minute I walked into the room.

"Who is she?", "What's her name?", "Maybe we could get her to join the cheerleading squad."

It took everything in me not to roll my eyes at the lack of discretion, or let slip a witty comment each time, and for the most part I kept my eyes on anything but them, periodically sparing them a glance and pleasant half-smile.

Of course, there were the nice ones, who smiled, waved, and bothered to introduce themselves, completely leaving out the part where they asked colleagues - who like themselves didn't know me - who I was. Some even sweetly offered for me to spend lunch with them, and genuine regret colored delicate features as I complaisantly declined each request. Infiltrating new territory meant that getting to know it was a good idea, and after the obstacle I had to overcome already, when the day had barely even begun, that was exactly what I intended to do. Before I'd even left the house, I made a conscious decision to wander around the art and the history departments, having no doubt that a lot of my time would be spent there.

I had five minutes to spare until the lesson began, and as I took a seat, I couldn't help but make observations of my own; by the windows were preppy little girls, laughing boisterously as they paid no mind to anyone but each other, half of the football team throwing a ball across the classroom, or blowing spit balls through straws at the 'nerds' sitting in the front row. The few minutes I had to gather my thoughts flew by way too quickly, and the next thing I know, the teacher's at the front of the class, demanding everyone's silence prior to directing an amiable smile towards me, his introduction doubling as a request for me to join him before everyone else, and let them all know who I was.

"We have someone new in our class today, everyone. Why don't you come up and introduce yourself?"

Thank God this was a History class.

"Hi, I'm Isobel Flemming, and I moved here from-."


	9. Chapter 9 John's POV

I reached for the doorknob to my classroom. I should have been paying closer attention because as I slammed the door behind me I caught a few words spoken words.

"- and I moved here from… "

_Perfect._

I had interrupted the new girl. Wasn't I just the biggest asshole in the world? I probably wasn't but it sure felt so. I inclined backward against the door; I had finally caught my breath and didn't want to cause another ruckus by embarking on a mission to cross the room to grab an empty seat.

"Don't mind me, babe. Please continue. Enthral us all with your tale."

I stood in appraisal of this dark haired stranger that stood to my left – front and centre for the entire class to gaze with undetermined scrutiny. – It was an age old tradition at MFHS, new additions to the student body would be auctioned off in a way. Cheerleaders and Jocks had first dibs – The highest bids – followed by the drama club and social committee before the Junior Varsity Jocks and girls swimming, gymnastics and soccer were able to get a look in.

You were lucky that the AV Club and those considered less popular like Chess Club and Mathletes weren't given a chance. If the hierarchy didn't want you then you were basically thrown to the wolves and lumped in with the losers.

Silence… the emptiness echoed through the room. Not a peep not even a nervous shuffle of sheets carried to my ears. It was unnerving. I remained standing debating internally whether to make a run for it to spare myself another iota of embarrassment when Mr Roth broke the silence and demanded I take my seat and leave the poor girl alone.

Today was not my day, no finest hour for me. I guess I had a lot to recover from, I'd make things right before days end or I'd pay for it at home.

Dropping my backpack beside my chair, I slid into my seat beside the window and drew my attention back to the front of the class.

"Miss Flemming, please continue. Where did you move from again?"

Mr Roth prompted the young girl to finish her introduction. She was visibly nervous, I could tell as soon as her hand instinctively rose to smooth a strand of jet black hair behind her ear. A gentle throat clearing followed and we all waited patiently to hear where she hailed from.


	10. Chapter 10 Both POV

**Isobe****l's**** POV**

The surprising slam of the classroom door tore my attention from the expectant sea of predatory gazes before me, evaluations flagrantly being made as if I was fresh meat amongst a volt of vultures. This stranger's grand entrance had startled the entire student body, and for a few seconds, an uncomfortable silence plagued the room as the abrupt interruption left me wordless and dumbfounded. With the intervention unequivocally distracting me from my train of thought, the teacher's prompt for me to continue was barely noticed, and finally responding a fraction of a beat too late, my reply trailed out of coral lips in unintentionally measured syllables.

"Flo..rida."

As the single word slipped forth, sable irises mindlessly remained on the offending student, following him as he made his way to his seat. I couldn't decide what to think of his intrepid statement, though it was evident that its audacity had me mildly flustered, a faint and almost undetectable shade of pink coloring my cheeks. Quickly, I caught myself, and with a clear of my throat looked to my teacher and the class once more, my words taking a lucid, more confident tone this time around.

"I umm, moved here from Florida."

With the flash of a charmingly delicate smile, I complied to Mr. Roth's request for me to take my seat once more, a brief glance thrown in the stranger's direction as I walked past him to take my place at the desk behind where he sat.

**John's POV**

_Florida, huh.. She doesn't look tan enough for Florida._ The thought ran wildly through my mind as I heard her restate where she hailed from. The aphotic haired beauty was awkward in her stance and footing, she bumped into the first row of desks as she sauntered to take the desk behind me once she reclaimed her confidence. _Cute_. My first impression of Miss Flemming was a purely physical one. As much as it was lame that I was ruled by my penis, it didn't make it less true. As she took to her seat and collected herself; embarrassment most likely hit her, inflaming her cheeks until a rosy pink surfaced beneath flesh. The remaining 30 minutes would surely be a chore especially if Isobel had an angered gaze directed at my skull. I had to bite the bullet and apologize, get the situation off the table and relieve some of the tension that was building between myself and Isobel Flemming.

"I'm sorry about that whole mess. I didn't mean to ruin your introduction to Mystic Falls. I'm not always that big of an ass despite what people say."

I had turned at an odd angle and delivered an apology to the new girl, I still didn't know her name and I couldn't ask her for it. Isobel hadn't responded instantly and remaining in an angle that put pressure on my neck was becoming painful so I had no option but to move out of it and stare absent-mindedly out of the window. _Way to go, John. God you're such a weirdo. She's gonna think you're riding the short bus._

With a muted huff I balled fists and rapped them on the desk.

**Isobel's POV**

With my head down as the lesson began, the gaze I had directed at the textbook before me only held for a few seconds, a poor attempt at subtlety grabbing my attention as an apologetic half-whisper was spoken. Looking up through a curtain of ebony lashes, I tucked an errant lock of hair behind my ear, my glance shifting swiftly to the teacher as he reprimanded the student in front of me for speaking while he was.

"Gilbert."

A slight smile dressed my features as he jumped slightly at the teacher's bark, his attention directed at something outside the classroom. What exactly, I couldn't figure out, my own eyes trailing to where his were directed once he'd turned in his seat to face the front of the class once more. Waiting until Mr. Roth began to scribble noisily on the chalkboard, his back to all the students, I leant forward with forearms resting on my desk, my response spoken in a dainty whisper that, unlike his, managed to remain unheard by the teacher as sculpted brows knitted out of curiosity at his apology.

"I _just_ moved here..when would I have gotten the chance to hear anything about you?"

**John's POV**

Mr Roth. The most belligerent history teacher, Mystic Falls High had ever seen. His decrepit ways were a constant source of gossip in the teachers lounge. We all knew he was packing, a fifth of scotch in his filing cabinet. The only reason he hadn't been replaced was because he had tenure. I could have snorted. Tenure in a small town school. That's something to write home about, to tell your grandchildren about. This town had been my life for so many years it was hard to ignore the hypocrisy. Mr Roth, his command had captured my attention and as I reluctantly tore my gaze from the window, I focused on the blackboard. Only until I heard the whisperings from Isobel which were soft and hushed. She didn't want to get caught, I should have been more cautious in my own apology but a sour mood hadn't helped. I answered her, mimicking the same muted tone.

"Today may be your first day, but it's not over. You'll hear things if you surround yourself with the right people."

**Isobel's POV**

Raising a brow at his reply, I leant back into the confines of my own seat, idly toying with the tips of my hair out of habit as I considered the words just spoken. It appeared he had a reputation around the school, and Mr. Roth's attitude towards him did nothing but support this. His earlier interruption was a testament to his own words, and I shifted in my seat as, for a brief second, I was reminded of his impudence when he first entered the room. Despite his rebellious façade holding a slight, undeniable charm, the mimicry of my discreet murmurs to avoid being caught caused me to direct sable irises at him through a narrowed gaze, my previous vigilance slipping as my answer was spoken in a more audible tone.

"And who would those people be?"

This caught our teacher's attention, and as he turned to shoot a questioning glance at me.

"Isobel?"

Without any delay, I flashed Mr. Roth a falsely seraphic smile, speaking in dulcet tones to match.

"I was just asking.."

Trailing off, it's only then that I realise the stranger's name was unbeknown to me, and I look to him in silent question. It wasn't long until the teacher answered me, and I directed my attention to his once more as I continued.

"..John if he could speak a little quieter so I could hear you properly."

There was a playful undertone to my deception. After all, it was my first day, and making enemies was the last thing I wanted, especially with a day so early. Without even looking, I knew that John's features would be dressed with disbelief, and to that, I had only a saccharine grin to offer.

**John's POV**

_Sneaky little bitch_. I couldn't believe it, the new girl. Isobel, I had found out her name thanks to Mr Roth. Isobel Flemming, the strangely pale girl from Florida had screwed me over. I was impressed. In all honesty the day wasn't going my way so why not let the girl skate and own up to Mr Roth and take the blame. It could inadvertently garner favor with Isobel; My apology hadn't been genuine more of a formality. I slid my hand from its resting place to catch the attention of the history teacher.

"Mr Roth, my bad."

That was all it took for my ass to get sent to the principals office. I didn't look back to gauge Isobel's expression instead I stalked toward the door, backpack in hand and nodded sullenly to the alcoholic teacher before throwing up a peace sign as I exited.


	11. Chapter 11 John's POV

The day had been abysmal and as it winded down I knew I couldn't be as free as all the other kids. Stretched across the foam sofa in the library with my head resting on my backpack, which I had used as a makeshift pillow; my ears were flooded to the loud thrashing drums contrasting with vocals that sang musically:

_"Sometimes I speak, tonight there's nothing to say. Sometimes we freak, and laugh all day."_

Thanks to my, oh so –loving– and –generous– father I had to remain for an extra hour to get more involved. Was it not enough that I lettered in three sports and maintained a 4.0 GPA? No? I had to put in a little more effort. What was I to people, a performing monkey ready to dance for the man? Call me a rebel, call me a delinquent but never call me a conformist.

I couldn't wait to escape this god damn town, the idea of starting a life in a city where I could be myself, excited me. The world being my oyster and all that other shit that goes along with freedom. Yeah I know the ideals that I have aren't really small town, hell they aren't even like anyone else I know. I'm not like anyone else I know.

_"My cup is full, and I feel okay. The world is dull, but not today."_

Deaf to all around me, the chipped ceiling I stared upon practically judged me. With its dank spots and rough edges I couldn't stare any longer and was thankful when Delores the school librarian shook me. De had been a close friend of the family and especially to my late mom; smiling down at me ruefully she straightened her back before nudging her head to indicate that Mr Ashcroft was ready for me.

Removing the cassette player from my clutches I shoved it into my backpack along with the tattered headphones as I trudged down a row of stacks to find Mr Ashcroft and a student, I couldn't for the life of me recall his name. With a furrowed brow I shrugged involuntarily as my hand pushed down into my pocket to retrieve a piece of gum. _Let's get this over with. _

One goddamn hour passed. One hour I would never be able to get back. Frustrated grunts slipped from my mouth the entire walk home. I say walk, it was more like a reluctant trudge; scuffing the soles of my shoes with each step while the angst riddled voice and musings from Thurston Moore blasted against my ears.

_"Everywhere it's six-sex-six by luck. A satellite wish will make it just enough. You'll be making out with a witch in a coffee truck."_

I was desperate to drown out the irritation that was Mr Ashcroft. His lack of English was by far excruciating. He couldn't recall the author to Wuthering Heights and he couldn't name any piece of literature we had been reading last year. Why would he know? He's just an idiosyncratic lemming, a sheep following the herd. Desperate for approval from his peers and most likely his father, Ashcroft had probably remained in this small town and suddenly come to realize that he was going no where. I mean how more depressing can it get to work at your old high school? Not even as a teacher or a coach but as the guidance councillor. Before Ashcroft, the guidance counselor was a variety of people at one time or another. Delores for one, even Coach had a crack before passing the torch to Pastor Young's wife Marie. Psh, I could do a better job and I don't care about other people as much as people think I do.

Trailing up the pathway of my house, I spotted Grayson's car in the drive which was unusual. He'd normally be at Beth's house. I couldn't contain the snicker that grated against my teeth as I pried open the door of my house and entered. _I bet she chews gum like an animal at the dinner table too. _

I unplugged my ears and switched off the cassette player and was shocked to hear the shattering of glass followed by a screaming voice hurling insults at my older brother. I flung my backpack to the floor and strode into the kitchen; Grayson was cleaning up shards of glass with a flannel dish towel while our father stood seething with a bottle of scotch in his grasp.

"What the hell is going in here?"

I instinctively grabbed a hold of Grays' shoulder to tug him toward me. I didn't know what to expect. Once in a blue moon things with our father would get really intense. A man of faith and principle has his limits too and with _barely_ raising two sons alone, the bottle became his companion and his fists his own righteous delivery. One of the reasons Gray and I both joined sports teams were to have an excuse if we sported a black eye or a split lip to school. Rough housing, sports practice, whatever we could say to stop the questions, to nip the rumours in the bud.

My appearance only infuriated the old bastard and he stumbled to his feet, the stench of bourbon on his breath carried across the kitchen. It was enough to make anyone throw up. The pathetic excuse for a man could barely stand for more than a second before his knees buckled and he dropped back into his seat. Slurring insults in our vicinity.

I was furious but managed to let the insults ride off my back. I was used to it but Gray didn't need to hear. If only he had gone to Miranda's this could have been avoided.

"…you waste of space. If your mother could see you now she'd be disgraced. -"

Grayson was on his knees, pinching at the shards of glass until the last few slivers were cleaned away when our fathers' abuse hit us, I remained tight lipped but the stream of remarks flooded my mind. _If my mother could see YOU now, then yeah she'd be disgraced you dictator. _

If I spoke up now it would only make matters worse.

"- You only had to do one thing. One thing and you couldn't even manage that. I got a call from your school this afternoon boy."

I shot a look in the bastards' direction; he could barely focus on me that was how drunk he was. With his mouth slack and his limbs heavy and loose, his eyes stared blankly at the edge of the fridge while I was steps away.

The minute he started on Grayson was it for me. I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer. This pig deserved nothing from us. No more respect. No help in hiding his true nature.

"…Where's that slut you call a girlfriend, Grayson? Why is she with you anyway? You aren't anything. You're nothing but MY son, my only boy. The only one who knows how to follow orders? Obedient unlike that runt you call a brother."

Suddenly, I couldn't think. I couldn't remember. I couldn't piece together anything. It seemed as though the hours had been wiped from my mind. I didn't even know how I managed to get to the bonfire.

I had been resting against a log beside the roaring fire; examining the iridescent flames I became spellbound, I imagined the fires swallowing up my form entirely, swirling around me with heat, warming the blood that flowed through my veins, to a boiling temperature. My concentration was drawn back to the earth, blinking my vision clear to sight only to realize where it was that I sat. The clearing of my vision was painful, the tightening constricting flesh that shielded my orbs was heavy and I couldn't for the life of me widen my gaze. I winced in discomfort. My eye was puffy and constricted. My lip was torn; I could taste blood on my tongue. It was metallic and rough. _What the fuck?_

I hadn't changed my clothes or eaten anything. My stomach rumbled which was a giveaway and as I looked down at my hands I was faced with a sight that sparked confusion. My fists were inflamed around the knuckles and I scowled trying desperately to remember. The frown hurt, which was strange; I was no novice when it came to grimacing. What the hell had happened back at the house?


	12. Chapter 12 Isobel's POV

"You might as well, sweetheart. What could go wrong?"

With both my hands cupping a mug of coffee, sable hues glanced through a thick curtain of lashes at my dad, who sat before me across the dinner table with that ever trustworthy smile sculpted onto naturally affable features. Even dressed formally - dinner jacket, white shirt, bow tie and all - he managed to carry an undeniably amorous air, no different than to when he's sitting on the couch with a movie, mom and I either side of him.

"It'd do you good! You'll meet new people, make new friends.."

In a theatrically jesting manner, he leaned in, holding a hand by his mouth as the next few words were uttered in a joking whisper too loud to be considered discreet in any way.

"..Get drunk, learn what it's like to regret everything you did the night before.."

Swiftly straightening his posture, he flashed me a gallant grin, a playful shrug shifting his shoulders as whimsical laughter slipped past coral tinted petals.

"It'll be fun."

"Okay, dad, I'll go. I'll get drunk, dance promiscuously, and do you proud in a forest full of horny, inebriated, grope-happy teens."

Even through the sincere façade I so expertly presented, mocking tones that mirrored my father's were made evident through slivers that laced every syllable spoken, and he was quick to half-heartedly stare me down through a stern, narrowed gaze that aimed to beguile me.

"Cross my heart."

How could I say no to a face like that?

"That's my girl. - And that's my other girl!"

With her head tilted to one side as she adjusted an earring, mom was the epitome of beautiful, chocolate locks cascading over her shoulder in perfectly relaxed curls, any errant strands imprisoned by the unnoticeable pins that held her hair. Elegant heels demanded our attention with each delicate click against the laminated floor, and as she finally looked up at us both, a genuine smile dressed plush brims as I allowed sincere compliments to flow languidly.

"You look great, mom."

"And _you're_ going to this bonfire. We're away for a week, don't lock yourself up in here the whole time."

Even when in Florida, my mom's job as a company manager meant a lot of balls, galas, and charity events. The difference was, being here in Mystic Falls meant that these now happened all the way across the country from us, and the inadvertent reminder caused a frown to knit brows together in mild misery. A week wasn't long, but it was still a week. And in a town where I hardly knew anyone? The idea didn't exactly have me jumping up and down. Periodic nods, 'yes'es, and 'mhm's took me through the routine list, which I could probably recite perfectly after the number of times I'd heard it; turn off the lights, lock the doors, there's food in the fridge, this is our emergency number.. A quick kiss on the cheek, a hug, a wave goodbye, and they were gone. The silence was deafening.

Several minutes were spent in the kitchen, clearing up after my parents and I. With the steady flow of warm water having an almost calming effect, I took a moment to think about my plans for the evening. I learned today that this bonfire, which took place in the woods, was a regular event arranged as a "Back-to-school" gig. Throughout the day, it was all anyone talked about, whether it was in the classrooms or hallways. It was a big deal; everyone got together, there was a bonfire - obviously - and a lot of beer. _A lot_. Most used it as a conversation starter: 'Hey, you going to the bonfire tonight?' Judging by that, there wasn't a single doubt in my mind that this gathering was the final installation in the auction for any new student. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Only moments after, I found myself engaged in a staring contest with my bed, laden crassly with the contents of nearly my entire wardrobe. _What the hell do I wear?_ Blunted ivories gnawed at my bottom lip as an erratic gaze shifted from one piece of clothing to another. The difference between the choice of wearing jeans or a skirt was crucial, particularly under the evaluation of exceptionally predatory vultures. It was all about selling yourself, you had to look the part, act the part, and make yourself desirable. With some luck, you wouldn't be thrown into a pit where the rest of unwanted kids were left to wallow in their own self pity. The whole process was disgusting, yet unavoidable. Welcome to America. _Just be practical, Isobel. Who are you you trying to impress, anyway?_


	13. Chapter 13 Both POV

**Isobel's POV**

It was incredible how small this town was. The walk to the bonfire wasn't long at all from my house, though it also wasn't the most pleasant stroll I'd ever taken. It seemed as though come nightfall, Mystic Falls proudly lived up to its name. The place had almost an ominous air to it, the clear, darkened sky presenting the moon boldly amongst splatters of glittering stars. Around me were disorganised columns of trees, branches contorted in unnatural angles as they reached out into the night sky. The only thing that kept me from getting lost in the pathless expanse of backwoods was the visible orange glimmer of the raging fire through the trees, and the music that boisterously blared from an unseen sound system.

As soon as I stepped into the immediate vicinity, a red plastic cup was thrust into my hand by a shamelessly drunk individual, who did nothing but grin prior to stumbling over the log by my side. Swiftly, I meandered my way through the dense crowd, wandering eyes scanning the area. Each stereotype had loosely grouped amongst themselves, and it was comforting to realise I recognised some of them from my classes during the day. Their names, however.. That's another story. As I walked past them, the preppy girls and cheerleaders audaciously eyed me up and down, and as a jock from one of my classes noticed me, he shouted "New girl!", and the intoxicated mimicked chorus that followed from his fellow team mates elicited a fleeting laughter from my behalf. A short exchange of pleasantries was halted as I excused myself, curiosity getting the better of me as I made my way to the vaguely familiar figure that sat on one of many logs with his back to me.

"John, was it? Sorry if I got that wrong, there aren't any doors for you to burst through, so I can't be sure."

**John's POV**

With all the boisterous laughter and jeering friends that surrounded the engulfing bonfire, I was trapped in my own mind. Trying to remember how on earth I had got to this place. Why had things escalated to the point of no return. To add insult to my already painful injury, I was drunk just like the wretched pig at home. _Like father like son._

The thought entered my mind and as the comparisons accumulated I found solace in the form of cheap beer. Tilting the red cup to my lips, I was struck by the faintly familiar voice that murmured my name. I had to see whom had so rudely approached me, I hadn't given off the party mood but once my slightly hindered gaze landed on Isobel things became clear. What did this bitch want now? Was she gonna nark about the consumption of alcohol and minors? The recreational drug use? The lude acts occurring behind the treeline? I wasn't in any mood to pander to the new addition to town.

"If a door is slammed in the woods and no-one is around. Does it make a noise?"

I asked the ghostly cutie standing before me.

**Isobel's POV**

With the slight turn of John's head as he acknowledged my presence came the lingering, familiar scent of cheap beer. Placing my cup down on the tree stump beside me, I spared my watch a quick glance, a sculpted brow raised in silent question as I directed a curious gaze at him once more. Drunk? Already? _Lightweight_.

A sliver of a smile played on coral brims upon hearing his response. His completely, nonsensical response, and folding slender limbs across my chest, I began a steady stroll towards him, my own displayed in matter-of-fact tones.

"If there were.. it would. But forests don't have doors."

Perching on the spot beside John though facing the opposite direction, I throw him a pointed glance to emphasise my statement, wondering in the back of my mind why I even bothered to entertain such a senseless question.

**John's POV**

The reply from Isobel's mouth fell to my ear, deafened due to my inebriated state, I managed to grasp a little of what she had said. Clumsily nudging her shoulder as I attempted to guide my cup to my lips to refresh my pallet and instead spilled the dregs that remained at the bottom of my cup. Boldly I reached out to wipe her lapel dry and instead grazed her boob. _What a fucking jerk move!_ I could scream at myself but the drunken state I am in wouldn't be able to focus long enough to listen and heed my warning. Instead I had to settle for regaining control of the argument at hand.

"Are doors not made of wood and are we not surrounded by trees, which are wood before it's wood. Would, wood. Would, wood."

_Oh my god. What the hell am I doing. Who gives a shit about wood or even doors._

I could die. I could literally dig a grave, and crawl in it. Poor Isobel Flemming. She had found herself saddled with a drunk babbling jerk at her first party. Tonight is supposed to be a rite of passage for any Mystic Falls teen not this shambles.

**Isobel's POV**

Because he was trashed. That's why I entertained the question. I was swiftly reminded of this fact as errant spots of beer showered my jacket, a fact that didn't bother me greatly. What's a little beer? It'd wipe off easily. This exact thought was apparently the one that ran through John's mind as politely, he attempted to wipe it off. _I need to be more drunk for this._

Upon accidentally brushing his hand on my chest, I thanked whatever merciful God was watching from above for the atrocious lighting, the apples of my cheeks flushing violently with tints of pink. What was he even talking about? Clearing my throat, I directed a vague gaze in his direction once more, seraphic features altering in curiosity. I had to take a second to catch up with what John was drunkenly spouting, and missing my cue to respond by a fraction of a beat, I still only managed to drag out one word.

"..Yes?" Fucking wood."

**John's POV**

I felt the urge, I couldn't for the life of me contain it and as my lips compressed they were unable to stop the billowing surge I felt rising up my throat. My hands gripped the log I was sat upon and I braced myself for the uprising that would surely have my new 'companion' running for the hill. _Don't. You. Do. It_

A raging and echoed burp pried apart my brims and the reverberating sound was almost a vibration. I was mortified, hanging my head for a second before I grasped her shoulder and staggered to my feet.

"I'll be back, do not move."

Pushing myself a few steps forward I averted the fiery pit and stalked off behind the treeline. I needed a piss before the next urge that swept over me was a more unfortunate one. I quickly slid from sight, passing a couple whom were huddled against a tree. By the looks of it they were reenacting a scene from the sex education video we were forced to watch in health class. I propped a hand against the trunk of a great oak, unzipping my flies with the other to free myself and take a leak. The flood gates were opened and the sprinkling sound was surprisingly soothing.

Inhaling deeply I tried to clear my head and thus dissolve the heady intoxicating haze that filled my mind. I was blowing it with Isobel, even I could see that. I needed to regain my composure and allow the mask to slip back on. No good christian boy would dare act this way in front of a girl. When I returned to Isobel, I smiled apologetically and reclaimed my seat beside her, clutching a bottle of water I had snagged from the bed of a buddies truck.

"I'm sorry, I'm not normally like that."

**Isobel's POV**

I couldn't fathom why I listened to him when he told me not to move. I was pretty sure that trusting drunk adolescents who I found in the middle of a forest, nonetheless - was right up there with 'Talk to strangers' in the list of 'Don'ts I was given when growing up. I hadn't the slightest clue as to where John went, and given his evidently influenced state, I waged an internal battle. Should I follow him? Should I not?

I wouldn't put it past him to pass out in a hidden corner where no one would be able to find him. Even as these chaotic questions stirred in already clouded thoughts, I strained to hear past where no one would be able to find him. Even as these chaotic questions stirred in already clouded thoughts, I strained to hear past rather impressive display. _Impressive? It was a rancid burp. Get your head together, Isobel._

Snapped out of convoluted reverie as John took a seat beside me once more, I looked up, a nonchalant shrug claiming my shoulders.

"It's fi-"

For the first time in the evening, I saw his features in the bright light of the blazing fire behind us.

"John, what happened?"

Svelte digits gingerly rested on his jaw as sable irises were colored with concern. How have I just noticed this? Warily moving his head from one side to another, I swallowed thickly, noticing the split lip and slightly swollen eye. Clearing my throat as I noticed his awkward demeanor, I was swift to take back my hand, wordlessly conveying an apology through the wry smile that dressed plush brims. It was only afterwards that I realised how unseemly my actions were, and yet at the same time, it was instinct that caused me to react in such a way. _Well done. You've freaked the guy out._

The impassive air he held only caused my concern to elevate. Why? I barely knew the guy. But as he responded, darkened irises continued roaming injured features, and what followed was blurted out before my mind could even process the words that so quickly slipped past unguarded lips.

"You should come to mine and let me fix you up."

_What the hell, Isobel Flemming?! _My own statement surprised me, my eyes slightly widening as I looked down for the briefest second, mortified by how unintentionally forward I came across as. Taking a deep breath, I forced a smile as I looked back up at him, careful to choose my words before speaking them.

"I just mean.. You haven't even tried doing anything to that, have you?"

Mindlessly, tips of slender digits clawed delicately at the bark of the log John and I were sat on as I awaited his response.

**John's POV**

I was struck with a confusing expression tainting my previous apologetic appearance when Isobel's svelte digits lightly and rather boldly touch my face, the inappropriate caress provokes a lowering of brows to occur in a successful attempt at conveying the awkwardness of the moment. Although inappropriate her touch also brought forth a soothing that had been desperately missed. The chilled temperature of her fingertips sent shivers crawling up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck prick and providing ease. _What is she doing?_

I held a steady gaze on her and inhaled a sharp breath, one which was hopefully undetected by her. _What's her angle? She has to have one. Everyone does. Is she lulling me into a false sense of security to implement her revenge. I did ruin her first day at school. _

For as long as I could remember I had been suspicious, it was instilled in me and my brother ever since our mother had died. Trust wasn't easy to share and I learned early on that kindness is just a means to and end; but Isobel's chaste touch felt good. Her icy digits aided my ailments and for a moment my sights were set on her. _Hey, dumbass. She's going to want an explanation. Get your head out of her tits and think of something. _

I berated myself and yanked back from her clutches, regaining my tough-guy facade.

"You should see the other guy."

I still couldn't figure out what Isobel wanted from me, I had been awful to her. The biggest asshole in the world and to top it off I had groped her. I wished God would smite me down in this spot and put and end to the awkward atmosphere between us. I was very aware of my breath and the stale stench of beer still lingered, coating my tongue in the bitterness. I needed to wash my mouth clean. _Dude, your breathing this stink all over her. She is gonna puke or something._

The bottled water I had lifted from a buddy's truck had come in handy. I slid my fingers firmly around the screw cap top and lifted my head skyward as I took a leisurely swallow as she offered to take me back to her house and 'fix' me up. _Yeah. I know that trick. I've used it plenty of times._

I had to halt the urge to bellow out a laugh in response to her bold offer. Isobel was hot, in a avant-garde way, she had potential and I didn't have anywhere else to go. I dreaded going home to the unknown, what mood would my father be in? Would we go for round two? _Fuck it. She's cute enough and I could nail her. _

It's been a slow summer in the girl department other than the Pastors daughter and his niece. I wracked my brain trying to remember if I had replaced the condom in my wallet.

"Hey, it's not that painful."

As I said it, my lip pulled and the split at the edge of my brim tugged prompting a wince to escape along with an accompanying grimace.

"Yeah, let's go. I hope you have meds and mouthwash."

I staggered to feet, inhaling deeply trying to clear the heady inebriating fog, stretching a hand out for hers.


	14. Chapter 14 Both POV

**Isobel's POV**

The few moments spent with John Gilbert have been nothing short of awkward, the cumbersome nature of the exchanges between guaranteeing the lingering of an uneasy air amongst the evening chill. The impertinence behind my offer was, without a doubt in my mind, unintentional, though the slivers of burning sensations crawling relentlessly through my skin reminded me how an innocent, and genuine statement could so easily be perceived as audacious.

With this in mind, John so nonchalantly accepting my invitation was astonishing, to say the least, and I was surprised to look up to find him with a hand out in a silent indication to join him. _Who in the world says yes to .. Well, that?_

Slipping a delicate hand into his, slight pressure hauling me up from my position, I was quick to take my hand from his eager not to increase the evident tension between us any further.

"Quit playing tough guy."

A pointed glance at John, and I led the way to my house. There _is_ a God, and he shows mercy. Words couldn't describe my relief over the short walk, the brief five minutes void of any conversation as he trailed closely beside me. Every now and again, I'd throw him a sporadic glance, rose-tinted brims occasionally twitching into a shadow of a smile as I take note of the dazed expression his features would sometimes display. Taking myself up the wooden porch with quick, lithe steps, the comforting sound of key unlocking door resonated through the soundless evening as, with the switch of a light, my humble abode was presented to him.

"Well... Come in."

**John's POV**

The house I stood before was a lot like mine just a different paint job, I remembered this house well. It was an old school friends before he had moved with his family to South Carolina. As I stepped over the threshold after her I stumbled slightly, quickly gaining my step once again. _Fuck, did she notice?_

I couldn't be sure and didn't want to ask or assume so I cleared my throat and waited in the doorway, This wasn't my house so I couldn't roam freely like I had before new owners moved in. _Do I go and grab a seat or head straight to the bedroom?_

Shuffling in the spot, my eyes flickered to Isobel's face.

_"So, may I?"_

**Isobel's POV**

Mr. Badass was polite? Huh. With a nod of my head, I shut the door behind us, wordlessly motioning towards the adjacent room, throwing a pointed glance at the plush couch prior to finally responding.

"Make yourself at home. Light switch is to your right, I'll go grab he codeine and ice."

Shifting a wary gaze towards her, sable hues roamed his features as blunted ivories gnawed at my bottom lip in silent assessment.

"Lots of ice."

Manoeuvring around John to wander towards the kitchen, I let nimble fingers carelessly gather loose ebony atop my head, a simple twist placing it in a comfortable bun. Placing my weight on the tips of my toes, I raised my voice for the benefit of John, who for all I knew might have been passed out, an ambling gaze scouring the open cabinet for a first aid kit.

"Did you want a drink.. or something?"

Taking the green, plastic kit into my hands, I direct an awaiting glance towards the kitchen door, patiently listening for his reply.

**John's ****POV**

My fingers slid against the wall in attempt to locate the light switch Isobel had spoke of, my lips unfurl to display a broad resilient smirk upon success; the lights flicker on dim at first before brightening and spreading through the room granting vision to the homely decor and comfortable furniture adorning the space. I slipped out of my jacket and left it strewn across the back of the couch as I rake my fingers through my hair, breathing out a sigh as I take a seat. My hand covers my mouth and I let a gust of breath land on my palm to inspect how terrible it was. _Oh my god, that is filth._

A light gag rose in my throat and I fished into my pocket for a pack of gum, inhaling a group of them to try and stunt the stench; chewing frantically as Isobel's voice carried from the kitchen asking if I wanted a drink.

"Yeah, sure... whatever you have on tap is fine."

From the perch on the couch I found myself appraising the surroundings, admiring the use of the space previously occupied by an old friend's parents clutter. Hoarders, they sure new how to organize. A mild snort spilled from my throat in a nasal vibration before stretching across the room to inspect the mantle which was adorned with an assortment of picture frames, a young Isobel's image stared back at me. Dark tresses at shoulder length and an unflattering fringe didn't help mask the buck teeth that protruded from her mouth. I stifled a laugh before she could return with the items she had left to grab.

"Nice... face."

**Isobel's POV**

With the first aid kit in one hand and a glass of water in the other as per his request, vigilant steps take me towards the room where was sat, careful not to spill a single drop from the slightly too full glass.

"Nice… face."

A sculpted brow raising skyward as confusion drives me to quicken my steps marginally, I hand the glass to John prior to allowing my eyes to wander in query. "What?" Perching on the spot beside him as I rested the kit on my lap, crimson tints spread across the apple of my cheeks, a mortified gaze zeroing in on the picture he had an amused glance set on. Embarrassment fuelling my actions, I twist swiftly to face him, a less than forceful punch landing on his upper arm.

"Shut _up._"

The arm I'd assaulted being the one to hold his glass of water, a muted gasp slipped past coral brims as half of the contents spilled onto his lap, the seemingly feeble strike I'd granted him appearing to have had more power behind him than I'd initially thought.

"I.."

Coughing to conceal a laugh that threatened to escape, I fought to keep my lips flattened, brows attempting to knit in feigned concern as I continued to voice my apology.

".. I am so sorry about that."

Even through the faultlessly contrite expression I displayed, the amusement drawn from the situation was evident in every syllable I spoke.

**John's POV**

The rather feisty jab to my shoulder was surprisingly strong and I lost use of my body out of shock and the overflow of water that splashed against my crotch, soaking the beige shade of khaki's I wore with black high-tops. Just another way to display my rebellious edge. I shook my head and let a breath fall to land on Isobel's exposed shoulder. _Thank fuck for the gum._

I paused and stared upon her ghostly visage, the sweltering warmth that filled her spheres were darkened with a line of eyeliner and a mild brush of mascara. Her image was ethereal and only now had I noticed, most likely due to the lighting in the room. If I was gonna make a move, it would be now. I wasn't a novice and the art of seduction had been quite tiring so I resisted and decided to just move hings along. _She's down for it. Why else did she invite me back?_

I guided my hand to her cheek, mistakenly though, she stepped toward the couch and I was left grasping at air. _What the fuck. Pull yourself together and get the job done._

**Isobel's POV**

"Umm.."

Clearing my throat as if it'd help clear the uncomfortable edge that played on the atmosphere, I couldn't help but wonder what John was still doing standing up, as I looked to him from my seated position on the couch. One tug on his hand and I direct my gaze away from him, and at the array of gauzes, bandages, and surgical tape before me, my words slipping forth in a distracted murmur as I looked for the cotton swabs.

"Sit down.."

A satisfied sigh elicits a delicate smile to take form on my lips, successful in my search for everything needed to right the scratches and slivers of blood on your face. With an abrupt, wry laugh escaping me, a chagrined glance shifts from you to your wet lap before I spoke once more.

"..I should get you a towel for that."

I could give no more of a response than to relentlessly stare at John in unequivocal disbelief, the temerity of each question and statement catching me entirely off guard. _..What?_

It took several blinks and a shake of my head to clear clouded thoughts, and with a laugh presenting itself in a nerve-ridden manner rather than in that of the flippant gesture I'd intended it to be, I tried to gauge his intentions prior to speaking. Was he serious? Throughout the entire evening, he'd been nothing but nearly polite, if the drunken burping and mindless conversation topics were ignored, my reaction would be understandable, the question I stated in response an impeccable reflection of the only conclusion I could draw.

"Coffee. That's what you need. I think you're still drunk."

**John's POV**

My gaze drops to the sodden patch on my pants, turning my face toward Isobel once I've joined her on the couch. A short laugh tumbles forth as my arms stretch along the back row, glancing to the medical supplies in her lap.

"Given aid to many strangers before? It'll dry unless your aim was to get me out of them?"

I asked, quirking a brow as slowly as possible not to cause more discomfort to my face. I smirked with a smug grin adorning my features.

"You could have just asked to see what I am packing, Isobel."

As hard as tried, I was coming up short. I knew what I _wanted_ and I knew what I _should_ do but the differences did not correlate and I knew I must have been giving off the weirdest vibe. Was I still drunk? I couldn't tell. I didn't feel drunk; my thoughts didn't eel like the thoughts of an inebriated adolescent but my body did. For so long I had kept myself hidden under the church attire and the all american perception of what a teenage boy should be. I barely knew myself and I couldn't separate the genuine from the fraudulent. _For the love of god, make a move John. Otherwise shut the fuck up._

I stretched back in my seat prior to adjusting to hunch forward. The back and forth between sides of my personality where reminiscent of a coin flip. I felt sorry for Isobel, but not enough to leave her in peace. _She's smoking hot_**  
**

**Isobel's POV**

The prolonged lack of response from him brought sculpted brows together in a delicate scowl as neither a confirmation or denial was voiced in concern to my statement. Even muted, the clearing of my throat cut through the heavy silence that was adamant on lingering in all its awkward glory like the sharpest of knives, and instead of making a move towards the kitchen once more, I poured generous lashings of medicinal alcohol onto a soft, cotton pad, a sheepish smile sculpting wry lips as I spoke in dulcet half whispers.

"I'm sorry, this'll probably sting."

With apprehension, I shifted slightly to bring my form closer to Johns, swallowing thickly as winces faintly creased ethereal features before I'd even brought the pad to his wounds. A pained hiss from his behalf, and swift, murmured apologies were spilling from rose-tinted petals, svelte digits vigilant and gentle in their ministrations, ivories gritting slightly to avoid the mild nausea that churned the pit of my stomach at the sight of John's blood spreading slowly onto previously pristine cotton.

**John's POV**

Where should I have looked? With Isobel's close proximity my eyes were immediately drawn to the curvatures she spoke apologies from as a wince fell from mine. The cotton swab applied to my abrasions elicited a less than tough response. With an icy temperature I instinctively reached forth and squeezed her forearm as it rested against her knee while the other administered aid to my wounds. _Do it. Do it now. Just kiss her you pussy._

How elegant of my inner voice to yell commands like I was a performing monkey. I tried to look away but unless I wanted to get caught staring at her cleavage, I had to keep them trained on her doe eyes. I'm not saying I didn't steal a glimpse of her bountiful bosom; they weren't huge, but ample and could probably fit in my palms comfortably.

**Isobel's POV**

After the evening of unrelenting bad-boy, tough-guy commentary, the mild vulnerability displayed in John taking my forearm elicited an almost unnoticeable smile to curl in satisfaction. _He winces! He's human._

The fact that he was holding my gaze was, surprisingly, okay. Or was it? As I idly dabbed at shallow gashes and violent scratches, careful not to apply pressure on delicate, bruising flesh, I tried to figure out if I should be thrown by his stare. _He's been looking right at me for a good minute. That's creepy, right?_

Snapped out of mindless internal reasoning as I caught myself staring right back into sapphire hues glazed over by spirits and beer, I swiftly took a skin toned bandage from the green box beside me, quickly ridding of the wrapping prior to measured lay placing it on the most prominent wound on his forehead.

"You're, umm.."

A glance down momentarily distracts me as I see his hand resting on my arm once more, a shake or my head and a forced smile dragging me back to what I was previously saying.

"Uhh, You're good. Done."

Taking my hand from the position it was in, hovering above the treated wound, nimble fingers accidentally brush the side of his face in an unintentional caress, and instantly I internally bitch slap myself for the undeniably awkward action. _Stop inappropriately touching strangers, Isobel._

**John's POV**

_Kiss her, you fool. _I was deafened with the frantic screams that flooded my mind. I couldn't differentiate between a good idea and one that would undoubtedly garner me a slap across the face. Isobel's grazing fingertips glided over my tender wounds and abrasions she had so kindly aided with medical grade disinfectants. This girl barely knew me, she had only learned my name not 10 hours earlier. She hadn't castrated me when I drunkenly groped her or belched in her face. _She must like damaged guys._

I thought and followed up with a shake of my head to clear the doubts that encroached. I couldn't second guess myself any longer. Yes, I _should_ make a move because that is what is expected of me but more than that, I _wanted_ to. I wanted to connect with her on a deeper level. I could be the real me with her, not the ego-maniacal guy she would hear rumors about. _Bite the bullet, jackass._

The silent command prompted my next movement and there was no turning back. My lips crushed against Isobel's hard at first before I felt her brims soften and return the heated exchange.

**Isobel's POV**

Surprise was an understatement, a word not worthy of explaining the current emotion I displayed. I'd been nothing short of inexplicably awkward, and even bitchy, to this guy in front of me, who I'd only just met. This guy in front of me, whose lips were now pressed against mine. I couldn't comprehend my response, my lips moving willingly against his despite not even knowing him for a day.

It was strange, the comfort I derived from spending time with him, and yet within only hours, the wall I have built so high for everyone else seems like it never even existed around him. The incessant ringing in the back of my mind reminding me of my body's reliance on oxygen, I reluctantly pulled away, coral brims pressed together as I looked anywhere but at John, as if that would hide the slight daze I found myself in. _How did that even happen?_

**John's POV**

_Oh shit, what the hell did I do that for?_ Isobel's detachment was a surprise and once she pulled away my brows dipped ow to form a furrowed line; my hues were glazed and I pressed my lips together to mute to groan that I could feel about to exit. _Of course she pulled away, she just got face raped by a creep in her living room._

Silence spread between us and as I leaned forward unaware of my bodies limitations, I face planted into the couch once she launched to a stand. _Good going, John._

**Isobel's POV**

Upon standing, a muted thud behind me causes me to spin instinctively, previously knitted brows raising inquisitively. _Is he.. He is._

Wry laughter escaped me in the form of a short, halted breath, and with a shake of my head, I took the couch's biggest cushion, slipping it under his head prior to throwing a thick blanket over his unconscious form. Wary steps took me away from him, a subtle flinch rippling through me whenever the creak of a wooden floorboard triggered a minute shift in his sleeping state.

Lights off, and doors shut, a lazy traipse took myself up to my own room, my racing mind craving slumber as I fell heavily against the welcoming comfort of plush pillows, a soft blanket cradling me as I eagerly wrapped it around my dozing form.


	15. Chapter 15 John's POV

With a huffed groan I rolled onto my side and puzzlingly, I wasn't protected by the extra length of mattress. I hit the ground with a painful thud. _What the fuck, who moved my bed?_

I could barely gather the strength to open my eyes; I knew what would be waiting for me once I did. The blistering sunlight burned my irises and as my face contorted to adjust to the light I could hear the god damn birds chirping. What time was it? _Shit, what time was it?_

As I jumped to my feet I stumbled toward the door, stopping abruptly to move in a frantic circle like a dog trying to chase its own tail. This wasn't my house. _This isn't my house_

I wracked my brain for some remote recollection of what transpired last night. Did I take someone home, to their home? _Who the fuck…_

As I spoke, I patted my body down and breathed a long sigh of relief to find my clothes weren't missing or even on inside out. _Phew. Talk about awkward._

From where I stood, my eyes dropped and were caught by a light switch. The white switch brought a memory to the front of my mind and it played back behind my eyes. _Oh no. Oh god. Holy shit._

Isobel Flemming, Fucking Isobel Flemming, What was I thinking? Did I like tormenting her? She'd barely been in town and I had already groped her and kissed her. _Oh god, I kissed her. I kissed her and she pulled away. She pulled away, what a bitch._

The priority wasn't that she pulled away, but I couldn't hide my irritations. I'ma good kisser. I hear it a lot. I needed to vanish, she could be waking up any moment now. I had to get out of here. Would she want to eat breakfast together? The scenarios ran through my head and the countless that assaulted me were giving my headache a headache. As I pried open the door as silently as possible. I shook my head when the opposite occurred. A loud creak dragged out, the longest embarrassing moment in history and it was happening to me. _Come on!_

I screamed at myself before closing the door once met with the maintained yard and a waving hand of one of her neighbours. _Fuck. My. Life._

As soon as I jumped off the porch step, I was struck with fear. It coursed through my entire shell and I realized why. I had no idea what I would be walking into when I got home. I still didn't remember everything. I couldn't wait. I couldn't bide my time. I had to go home and face the music even if the only reason was that I stunk. I had to shower before school. _Mother fucker. I am going to see her at school. _

I groaned as I began the trudge to my house, my fists were balled and pounded into the air in frustration at how much of an ass I had been and would continue to be.


	16. Chapter 16 Isobel's POV

With wide eyes, I stood before my mirror, blunted ivories chewing at the delicate flesh inside my bottom lip out of nervous habit, while a blank stare was purposelessly shifting from each set of ebony frame adorning each eye. A slight adjustment of sable hues, and the leather bound diary, which held all my mindless secrets, would come into view through the mirror's reflection. The leather bound diary, which now held in it printed reason for my odd behavior this morning. Why I insisted on writing this the minute I woke up? Probably to torture future me with cruel reminders. _You self destructive hussy._

The words I'd scribbled in cursive ebony print tauntingly replayed in my head, an almost mocking edge taken to the tone it was recited in, the navy leather staring right back at me with inanimate derision. "~... I still can't decide if the bonfire was a good idea. I ended up babysitting a drunken John Gilbert, and it wasn't too bad. His company was kinda nice, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about how he ended up in such a mess...~"

...Blah, blah, blah - _John Gilbert is downstairs, on your couch. Not to add insult to injury, but you also made out with him. Kind of._

Inner me was right. I don't think how a /teenage boy/ got into a fight was my main problem right now. The unforgiving accompaniment of an incessant internal monologue elicited an exasperated groan to cascade out of rose-tinted petals that wouldn't uncoil from their grimacing state, and it was only the faintest sound of creaking wood that snapped me out of panicked reverie, a chocolate gaze flickering towards my door instinctively. A door that held nothing but promises of an awkward, most probably uncomfortable morning.

Drawing an unnecessarily deep breath in futile attempt to clear an erratic mind, a twist on my heel had me heading out of my bedroom, padded steps carrying me down the stairs in an almost apprehensive traipse. I should have thought this through before leaving the confines of my John-free bedroom - what do I say? Seraphic features accommodated a delicate frown as train of thought led to the reminder that there would not only be this morning, but also the journey to school. Together. _Just.. That's just great._

The sight before me once I stepped into the living room puzzled me. There was the blanket, the cushion, but.. _What?_

Swift steps carried me around the house as I conducted a vague search. I wouldn't put it past John to be snooping, and yet the kitchen, bathrooms, and hallways only carried an empty, undisturbed air. It took only mere minutes to realise that John left. _You have got to be kidding me._

That cheeky little bastard sneaked out.


	17. Chapter 17 Both POV

**John's POV**

As I approached my little shop of horrors aka the homestead I couldn't deny or shake the apprehension that founds it way into the pit of my stomach. Grayson's car wasn't in the drive and the memories of last night still hadn't come back to me. I had kind of hoped they would not. I daren't think about what I _could_ have done.

"Get in, shower and get out, John."

I needed to lay out my plan. If the old bastard was home, he wasn't going to embrace me in a hug. I'd be a swift punch to the face that would knock me on my ass. Climbing the steps with a shake, I took a deep breath and breached the warzone. It was surprisingly silent and dark. There wasn't a single light on. If anyone paid close enough attention, they'd assume we hadn't paid our electricity bill. That rumour would be around town in a matter of hours. _God damn nosey neighbours. They should spend more time paying attention to what goes on with their own families instead of concerning themselves with me and mine._

Thankfully, the house was empty and I was gifted with solace and roamed the house with a hurried step. I tossed my clothes into the laundry hamper and grabbed a shower. I didn't have long before school started and as much as I wanted to skip to mainly avoid Isobel, I'd rather be somewhere public where my fathers wrath couldn't find me.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and ran into the kitchen. Where had the chaos gone? It was spotless, if I hadn't have been here I would assume nothing happened last night. No brawl, no drunken antics, no shattered glass. Grayson must have cleaned. _Where is that fool?_

I grabbed a carton of milk from the refrigerator and upended it before I caught a glimpse at the clock. _Mother fucker._

I was going to be late. I had to motor before one jumped up guidance councillor decided he needed a word with my parental unit.

**Isobel's POV**

The hour I had between discovering John had left and having to leave for school flew by too quickly for my liking, and I'd spent the majority of it storming around the house in an irate haze as I conducted a quick clean up of the house, unnecessarily vigorous in my actions as cushions were returned into their proper positions, and blankets were folded into an organised pile. _What. A. Jerk._

After an evening of humoring him as he went about the evening in his ridiculously inebriated state, not to mention tending to still unexplained cuts, grazes, and bruises despite the ungodly incident that was him inappropriately groping me, John Gilbert, Mystic Falls' resident asshole, still managed to justify slipping out without even the slightest display of gratitude. Thank you? What's Thank you?

As I strolled the crowded hallways, the air littered with more groans and whining breaths than was normal due to the various degrees of hangovers plaguing Mystic Falls High's students, all I could think about was how grateful I was for the fact that I didn't have History today.

"Isobel, hey! You disappeared last night, where did you go?"

As I came to a stop by my locker, I was met by the angelic smile of a sweet girl from my art class. A sweet girl, who's friendliness received a backhand in the form of a sardonic smile, and a response uttered in equally acerbic tones.

"Just.. Wasn't really feeling it."

The second those unnecessarily astringent words slipped loose, regret colored fair features as I realised how harsh I was just then. _And the bitchiest new girl award goes to.._

I made a point of granting her a deceptively sincere smile in a vain attempt to right my wrong. "I just mean that I was really tired.. So I had to go home. It sucks, I would've loved to spend more time with you!"

**John's POV**

School, how mundane. I trolled the halls and stopped at my locker. This thing had not been opened all summer. I dreaded to think what I had left behind. Gym clothes, food, something utterly disgusting most likely and as I opened it up I was assaulted with the stench of rotting fruit. _SHIT_!

I slammed it shut and turned my head to heave violently before being confronted with Isobel's face. She stood at the far end of the hall.

_Fuck. What am I gonna do?_ _What do I even say? Do I acknowledge her? Ignore her? I'll ignore her. That seems like the saner thing to do._

I turned on my heel, backing away from the open space. I was in clear view, if she turned her head an inch she would see me. _Don't do it. Don't look. Don't look at me._

I prayed. Who the hell was I praying to anyway. I wasn't really religious, I gave the appearance that I did. As I crept away slowly, I hugged the wall like I was fucking spider man. _This shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be scaling the wall like a fucking idiot. Why did this girl drive me to such extreme lengths._

I couldn't blame Isobel for my reaction to things. I had been the one to kiss her in a drunken state. Surely she's telling the girl beside her all about her night with John Gilbert. _If I wasn't so embarrassed I'd welcome the gossip._

I had successfully escaped from the hall and the possibility of being caught by Isobel Flemming. Once out of sight, I strolled confidently down the hall toward my class.

**Isobel's POV**

"See you at lunch?"

As the girl I'd met in my art class looked to me with an expectant gaze, bright eyes mirroring the brilliant smile seraphic features held while an organised pile of folders and books remained in the confines of her arms, I granted her an acknowledging nod, a murmured response of "Mhm" expelled through coral lips.

The hallways remained constantly busy as students made vain attempts to meander through the dense crowds, or find their way to lockers loosely barricaded by numerous bodies merely loitering as they waited for that one minute in which everyone dispersed to make their way to their own classes. The folder I held in my hand only became a nuisance as, like many others, I patiently manoeuvred through the cluttered hallways.

One second. I glanced down for one second to slip the burden into my bag, and the next thing I know, I'm colliding shoulder to shoulder with another student who was paying as little attention to the path ahead of him as myself.

"I'm sor-"

The collision elicited apologetic words the only ended up strangled behind pursed lips the moment I laid eyes on John Gilbert, the victim of my mindlessness. "_Great_."

**John's POV**

There was nothing I could do to stop the impending collision that occurred between Isobel and I, I had absconded from her undetected yet had a hand in our encounter. Was cupid sorely mistaken in this match? I should have skipped today. Found myself a dark windowless room to remain in but instead I thought I would occupy myself with school. The dulling drivel that would surely occur seemed like an perfect way to pass the time until sleep could envelop me. My shoulder slammed into her. I had been too preoccupied with celebrating my success to spare a glance forward and avoid Isobel's advancing meander.

A trailed apology fell fell from her coral lips and I had no time to filter my response.

"Watch where you're going! Seriously, are you just stupid today."

_Harsh much._ I towered over Isobel, her petite frame and short stature were laid before me while my countenance morphed into a spiteful mein.

**Isobel's POV**

I'd been raised to keep a level head. As I grew up, it was the same song, repeated in every manner known to man: Say hello, flash a smile, say please, thank you, no thank you. I was taught to apologise, and to be forgiving. Why? If I couldn't forgive, why should others forgive me? It was these values that formed the basis of my morals, and yet, as the words rudely snapped by John hit me, well embedded principles flew out the window, and a raised voice accompanied the disbelieving glare I had fixed on an evidently irritated John Gilbert.

"Are you _serious_, John? Think about what you're saying, you jerk. Think long and hard about ho between the two of us, is the stupid one, because _I'm_ not the one who sneaked out of a house this morning!"

**John's POV**

I should have calmed myself before the sight of Isobel spurred me so, I was more embarrassed than anything. My behaviour the night before was less than christian. With a roll of my eyes, my hand guided to my jaw and scratched lightly. _This bitch needs to shut up._

My inner musings were contradictory, the words that evaded my tongue were all aimed at her.

"Jesus, who pissed in your cheerios this morning? It sure as fuck wasn't me."

**Isobel's POV**

The shortest moment passed as I stared at him without saying a single word, astonished by the unrelenting impertinence he shamelessly displayed. _Is this guy serious?_

"Are you /fucking/ kidding me? Tell me how you stand there and be such a freaking _douche_ after I let your drunk ass sleep under my roof last night."

John Gilbert's ungrateful behavior was enough to irk me this morning. This audacious display he decided to flaunt so publicly only tipped my mood over the edge, and I found myself swiftly drumming svelte digits against my jeans in a waning effort to keep myself from landing a slap on his cheek.

**John's POV**

Baring witness to Isobel's serenely angered exterior, her fingers drummed menacingly against her jeaned thigh while her lips curve into a displeased display.

"Calm the fuck down. Just because I didn't what? Stay for breakfast and look at you in the light of day, you're acting like a total crazed bitch."

I sneered through an enraged and oddly confused grunt; peers had halted their steps toward their classes to watch our argument _Goddammit._

I wanted the ground to swallow me whole and end this display of tempestuous degree. Isobel was livid because I had bailed from her house? Was she serious? _Fucking pathetic._

"Do me a favor, forget you met me. I've forgotten already, you aren't _that_ memorable."

**Isobel's POV**

John's every word did nothing but add fuel an anger that already blazed so furiously within me. _How rude!_

Most would bother to say thanks to someone who could've spent an evening getting drunk and happy, but instead spent it tending to wounds which, several hours later, I still had no explanation for. Not to mention the fact that I patiently tolerated his drunken antics. _Who the hell ends up that drunk that early anyway?_

His every statement rested precariously atop one another, an unstable pile carelessly formed, and as he uttered his closing declaration, my resolve collapsed and any control I'd maintained during the entirety of the conversation came crashing down, a hand landing on the side of his face with a resounding echo, my own words carried clearly in the silence that fell upon the audience I hadn't realised had gathered around us.

"Go to hell."

**John's POV**

Resounding gasps carried toward Isobel and myself. Her hand hand opened and the palm collided with my face in a lash of a slap. Flesh became inflamed, stinging painfully prompting my teeth to clench together as a groaned growl catched against my teeth. _She fucking slapped me_

Overcome with shock, I advanced toward her, pressing the tip of my nose against her own while my countenance hardened. I didn't know if I should kiss her or hit her in that moment, all conflicting emotions soared through me while harsh breaths hit at her lips; our eyes were locked on each others and the alarming ring of bells broke the silence.


	18. Chapter 18 John's POV

Who did she think she was? Isobel fucking Flemming! This chick had only just met me and she felt the need to accost me in the hallway because of my disappearing act. Did she want to humiliate me in front of all of our peers? Cause a scene in front of the entire town? I could just imagine the rumours flying around town. It would reach the Grille by mid morning and the members of the PTA would be gossiping over their coffee and croissants. What was wrong with a good old fashioned bagel? God those women were priceless. Any new fad to come to town and they jumped on it like ravenous beasts. I was thankful my Mom had not engaged those women. She was everything good about this town and when she died things were not salvageable. They were irreparably damaged. Her death broke me and my father, Grayson too. He hit the bottle within weeks of her death and Grayson and I were left to pick up the pieces until we couldn't anymore.

I've dealt with a lot in my life and this jumped up bitch was yelling because I had left her house when I woke up. It's not like I bailed after I banged her. Hell it was only a kiss. One she pulled away from. The bell sounded and our growing crowd began to disperse to their classes and I was left staring down at this raven-haired creature, she looked like a wounded bird in response to frustrated retort in regards to her behaviour. I honestly didn't have time for this. I shook my head and grunted angrily as I stepped away and proceeded toward my class. Isobel Flemming. She could suck my dick for all care. I wouldn't waste another moment on her petulant mood swing and assaulting tongue.

I barely made it to my class on time and had to break into a sprint to land in my seat before the bell stopped ringing. I had English and as much as I'd rather be on the field working through this frustration, the downtime would do me good. We were reading George Orwell's 1984 and I hadn't even cracked the spine of my copy when we received it yesterday. I hoped they wouldn't ask about our first impressions. It had been a while since I read the book and in my state right now, I'd likely hurl before I could competently recall sufficient details. From what I could remember some dude called Winston was a member of some weird ass political group called The Party in a Nation called Oceania and some weird stuff occurs with telescreens and some leader they call Big Brother. Other shit happens and Winston meets a girl called Julia and then he gets caught by a Party Spy who pretended to be a member of the Brotherhood and then Winston gets brainwashed and feels nothing for this Julia woman and it kind of just ends. Admittedly the details were fuzzy and a lot more happens in the book but as I sat staring at the wall I prayed silently not to be called on and my prayers were answered. We weren't going to discuss the novel in class.

I zoned out as soon as we were told and dropped my head against my desk and stared out of the window. My tolerance for alcohol was waning and as much as my head pounded I had to be alert. If I got caught sleeping, I'd surely get reamed by as many as five obnoxious individuals, so instead I propped my arm up and leaned my head against it while a single headphone clasped against my palm and pushed against my ear. The dulcet tones of _Guns N Roses' – Don't Cry_ echoed into my drum. _"Give me a whisper and give me a sigh. Give me a kiss before you tell me goodbye."_

When class ended we all headed toward the door like we were sheep. The thought came to me as I stood behind a short blonde as she struggled to carry all of her books and had to rely on her friend to assist. We were still shuffling forward in an orderly fashion like we were lambs to the slaughter. My cassette had clicked and as I slid my fingers against the tape deck to turn it over I bumped head on into a buddy of mine. He was grinning from ear to ear and couldn't help but commenting on the dispute between Isobel and I. His amber hair covered his eyes and I shook my head as he blew warm breath outward to shift the strands.

"Gilbert, it's all over school. You nailed the new girl? Fast work dude."

I didn't have time or energy to correct this jackass and shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly. If Isobel felt the need to accost me in the hall, she should expect the rumour mill to churn out ridiculous assumptions.

"Hey man, you know I don't kiss and tell."

I knew my remark would vindicate the assumption but it wasn't my place to set people straight. Let them think I nailed the Flemming girl; it wouldn't hurt my reputation only Isobel's and she didn't deserve my leniency right now. Brandon's face lit up, his grin had grown tenfold. _What a fucking chump. He lives vicariously through me. How pathetic._

Two singular bells rang out which alerted us of our next class which incited Brandon to bail in a hurried run. I pulled my headphones on and clicked the play button to kick-start _Morrissey; Tomorrow_ as I headed to my Chemistry class. We had a sub and I could finally get some rest.

.

.

.

After Chemistry the day ran by without incident. I hadn't seen Isobel or had any more annoying assholes come up to me for details just a few concerned teachers inquiring about my face. The bruises had darkened a little and I explained fraudulently that Grayson and I had got into a heated basketball game the day before. They all accepted the lie and exhaled when they thought I wasn't looking. _Talk about ignoring the obvious._

I couldn't blame them. I was convincing. The art of a good lie is to incorporate as much truth as possible.

.

.

.

When the night came, I was waiting. Waiting for my father to return and finally lay eyes on my handiwork. I had assumed I'd landed a few good punches. The state of my knuckles led me to that assumption but he hadn't come home yet. I remained in my darkened room, listening to U2 when I finally heard the front door close and my name was called.

Grayson's familiar tone lured me from the dark pit of my bedroom and as I slinked down through to the kitchen he was stood by the sink with a bag of groceries.

"Where's the old man?"

My question wasn't out of concern or wonder. It was a reflex. I wanted to be prepared.

"He-he's staying at the cabin for a while. He's let the school know and Pastor Young. So, he'll be there until his bruises are gone."

_Ah... I knew it. I'd landed in a few good punches. _I nodded and uttered a solemn 'okay' before turning on my heel to head back to my room when Grayson stopped me and handed me the bag of groceries.

"Give me a hand with dinner and then sit your ass down and tell me everything."

_Everything? Fuck no._ I didn't want to burden him with the bullshit that's gone on since our mom died. Gray would be compelled to stick around and take care of me. I didn't need that. I'd been looking after myself through this whole fucked up situation and Grayson had already deferred from university a year. He needed to go. He needed to get out of Mystic Falls so when we sat down for dinner I spun him a tamer version of things. I implied that our old man had only been that way once or twice. The truth would have broken him and I didn't want that.


End file.
